Coup de grâce
by Sassy Satsuma
Summary: There was a reason why Ghost chose Roach rather than Soap for the Safehouse Op. But it was this reason that was to haunt Soap long after his friends' deaths... A prompt for duvalia. :


For **duvalia**. She was kind enough to give me this post Loose Ends angsty prompt and then even kinder to keep me entertained and inspired with lots of random messages. So here you go my dear! I hope you like this! :) And if you don't…then lie eh? LOL :P

**Warning!** This fic is rated T, but to be honest, there's a fair bit of swearing. It's my writing after all… :P You have been warned.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little.

* * *

"_Roach? Ghost? Come in, Ghost! Do you copy? Does __**anyone**__ copy?"_

"_They're __**dead**__, Soap."  
_

The hum and rattle of the chopper around him did nothing to quieten the conflict waging inside his skull.

He'd failed them. Six of his men lay dead on Russian soil, cut down by a man he'd told them to trust. The thought was a constant pressure on his mind, the betrayal sticking bitter and sharp in his throat as though he had swallowed glass. Waves of irrelevance like nausea washed through him, causing his muscles to tighten and his fists to clench. If he'd realised two minutes sooner then his men might have lived. If he'd realised five minutes earlier than that then they might have even _escaped._

There was a jolt as the chopper hit some turbulence, and Soap was knocked side wards from his crouching position, his head bouncing off the metal of the uncovered walls. He should have felt pain as he reached up to cradle the injury, but he was numb, his hands dead objects hanging limply off the ends of his forearms. As he straightened up, Soap felt his eyes ache for tears, but they were impossibly dry, all their moisture evaporated from the rage that seemed to burn throughout his system. His hand thundered out hard against the floor, but the knuckles remained unresponsive as they began to glow red, and he hit out again, hoping to at least feel _something _this time. Guilt was already busy hurtling through his bloodstream, massing in the pit of his stomach as if he was being continually kicked. He wanted to lash out, to scream, to tear the fucking bird to pieces in pure frustration, simply desperate for some form of release for his pent up thoughts. _Anything_ to just put an end to this intense combination of guilt, wrath and fucking remorse.

"You alright, mate?"

For a split second he was convinced that he had heard Ghost's voice, and looking upwards Soap didn't even attempt to hide the hope that must have been strewn across his features. However the figure that met him was Price, stood hunched over him, steadying himself on one of the handles hanging down above them. The older man was covered in blood and dust, but his face was dominated by a look of exhausted concern. Price stayed there a moment longer, watching Soap's features carefully for any kind of response. But Soap was careful to give none, and eventually the older man above him shook his head, choosing to reach down and give his left shoulder a reassuring squeeze rather than pursue the matter further. "Won't be long now, Soap."

They were hurtling through space now, raging through blue skies towards oblivion. They'd made their choice, chosen their suicide mission and in some ways, Soap was thankful for it. He didn't _want_ to die, but in some ways the action felt like a necessity and he'd become resigned to the idea. What good was a Captain without the men he'd failed? What hope was there left of an existence now that everything had changed? After all, the world was different now, born out of strange affiliations and raging wars. A guilt ridden Captain with no allegiance no longer fitted anywhere within the schemes of the powerful.

It at least felt strangely fitting that he should die seeking vengeance for the men he had let down. After all, his survival in itself would be a betrayal. He was only alive due to a mere twist of fate, a rare occurrence that had meant that he'd been in the right place at the right time. Some how, surviving on that pretence alone just didn't feel _right_…

* * *

_If there was something that Mactavish hated above everything else, it was submarines. They were small, hot and cramped, men packed on top of each other like sardines with no room to breathe. In his experience, they were the worst places for his men in the world. For men with low morale? Well then they were practically __**unbearable**__. _

_Price's stunt in Petropavlovsk had left the team divided. Shepherd was livid and the majority of the team, including Ghost and Roach thought that the idea had been complete and utter madness. And in some ways it __**had**__ been. But Soap wasn't sure if it was because of his deep, possibly misplaced loyalty to his mentor or just a little of his own insanity, but he could definitely see what the plan stood to achieve. He had just never realised that Price had the balls to actually go and __**do it**__. _

_Leaving the tension that had engulfed his men, Soap managed to find a quieter corner of the sub, using it to change into a clean set of clothes. His skin slicked with sweat as he slid off his black undershirt, Soap paused, trying to let his skin air a little before pulling on the clean one. It didn't work however, as the muggy, stale air of the sub simply clung to his skin as much as his t shirt had done before it. _

"_Sir?" The distinct cockney accent made Soap jump instantly in his skin and he spun round, taken a back when his lieutenant was stood directly beside him, his characteristic glasses folded into the collar of his green shirt. Slowly Riley cocked his head, and Soap imagined him smiling before he spoke again. "Can I have a word?" _

"_Umm…course…" Soap folded his arms across his bare chest, an expectant look gracing his features. "What about?" _

"_Price." The word left Riley's lips quickly, almost rehearsed. _

"_Ah…" Soap rolled his eyes. "Do we __**have**__ to do this now?" _

"_It's kind of important."_

"_We've got bigger things to be worried about." _

"_Really?" Riley scoffed. "So we're just going to pretend that he's __**not**__ out of control?" _

"_Watch your mouth." Soap warned, turning away and lifting his t shirt over his head. "He's still your superior." _

"_Does he even know the meaning of the word?" Riley laughed darkly. "With respect, sir, he was one step away from going rogue today. The only reason Shepherd hasn't had him locked up is because of his ties to Makarov…" _

"_He hardly acted alone…" Soap sighed. "We __**all**__ stood by him." _

"_No…__**you**__ stood by him." Riley shook his head. "The rest of us followed orders. You didn't even tell us the full fucking story before we went in there." _

"_You knew enough to get the job done." _

"_That's how much you trust us now?" _

"_It's my prerogative to disclose what's necessary for an operation." Soap rolled his eyes. "It has nothing to do with trust." _

"_Great." Laughing softly, Ghost half turned away, although he made sure he could still see Soap in the corner of his eye. "So you've just started making decisions for us now? I thought the 141 were above that?" _

"_Riley…" Turning so that he was looking at him head on, Soap tried his hardest to keep his tone low and controlled, something that the lieutenant was testing with every fresh word that escaped his mouth. "What's this about? Really?" _

"_I don't trust him." _

"_Price?"_

"_Who the fuck else would it be?" _

"_He's one of us, Riley…" _

"_Have you told him that recently?" Ghost scoffed. "He's out of control. He doesn't answer to you, hell he doesn't even answer to Shepherd. We bust him out of a fucking Gulag and he goes straight back into the field…Am I the only one who thinks that's messed up?" _

"_He's been cleared…" _

"_Debriefed more like. He spent an hour in a dark room with you and Shepherd. Hardly thorough was it?" _

"_What the hell are you trying to imply, Riley?" Soap was beginning to lose his patience now and he stepped forward, trying to use his slight height advantage to get Ghost to back off, even if only slightly. He didn't like being challenged at the best of times, and with Price involved, he liked it even less. _

"_We've all heard about the gulags, sir. We all know what can go on in them…how they can __**break**__ you…who knows what they did to him in there that he's not letting on…" _

"_So you think Price is burnt?" Soap let out a dark laugh. _

"_What I'm saying is we don't know…" Riley shook his head. "All I know is that there's a fucking war going on and we can't afford to get stabbed in the back-"_

"_I trust him! Alright?" He hadn't meant to yell it so loud, but the words were suddenly there, brash and angry, thundering through both men's skulls. "Price is loyal." _

"_And what about me?" Ghost wasn't the kind of man to stand down, whether the man screaming at him was his superior or not. "Don't you fucking trust me too?" _

"_Not when it comes to this." Soap shook his head. "You don't __**know**__ him." _

"_But I __**know**__ you…" Riley shrugged, his tone the very essence of angered frustration. "Four years I've been your subordinate. Your best mate for fucks sake. Christ…I can see when you're making a complete twat out of yourself!" _

"_And you think all that gives you the right to challenge me?" Soap smirked darkly, his arms crossed. "I think you need to remember __**who**__ you're talking to, mate."_

"_I thought I knew." Riley shook his head disgusted. "I thought the 141 was better than all this rank, superiority bullshit." He waved his index finger between them quickly. "I thought __**we**__ were better than this." _

"_Then you thought wrong." _

"_Clearly." Ghost turned on his heel, deeming the conversation to be over. He took a few steps forward before thinking better of himself and snarling over his shoulder. "God forbid __**one**__ of us should be thinking about the task force here…" _

"_It would be better for the task force if you stopped trying to tell me how to do my job." Soap spat back, turning away himself. When he spoke again his voice was low, but the angry, forceful tone was nothing short of deliberately hurtful. "There's a __**reason**__ why you're still a lieutenant, Riley…" _

_Soap was both pleased and relieved when at the briefing two hours later; Ghost chose Roach for the safehouse operation before he even had time to assign the teams himself. In reality, everyone in the operations room knew that it was unorthodox and that Mactavish should have gone with Ghost to the storm the safehouse and secure Makarov at his most likely location. But no one seemed to __**want **__to intervene. Whether it was the stern and instantly decisive tone that Riley had used or the fact that the tension in the room was so thick that you'd need a chisel to break it, no one had argued. The plans were quickly finalised, and with no further discussion the teams split up and went their separate ways…_

* * *

Ultimately, their argument had saved Soap's life. But it left survival with a bitter taste. Not only was there now the deep pangs of betrayal emanating through Soap's system but there was also guilt. Guilt for not being able to save the lives of two of his closest friends in time. Guilt that he had managed to somehow crawl out of hell alive when in reality he should have died along with them. And another, sharper, more potent sense of guilt, one that twisted through Mactavish's insides and made him feel physically sick. The brutal knowledge that the last words he ever really said to his best friend were ones that demeaned him.

Words that denied the truly great soldier, and man, that Simon Riley actually had been. It was that kind of guilt, that right then, Soap Mactavish knew he was unlikely to be able to take…

* * *

**I did contemplate a less angsty ending to this, but it didn't fit, so I apologise if I have depressed anyone. Anyway, this is slightly alien territory for me and my writing… (it's fairly short for me, it's a prompt and there's not an ounce of slash to be seen) so I would really appreciate your reviews if you fancy leaving me one. You know the drill guys, I already love you all. :) **

**-x-S-x- **


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